


A Collection of FrUS Drabbles

by romaneedsatoma



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 30 days challenge, M/M, this is just a walk through nostalgia lane for me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-24 05:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13804188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romaneedsatoma/pseuds/romaneedsatoma
Summary: A classic 30 Days challenge, not much more to say than that. If this ship is still as small as it was the last time I wrote Hetalia, then I hope this brings some rare pair shippers some joy.





	1. Day One: Holding Hands

**Author's Note:**

> okay so i'm not that into hetalia anymore, so don't expect this to be a very fast process. i'm likely to take my time and fade out of writing from time to time. and the chapters are gonna be short. sorry about that.
> 
> but. i am. a very nostalgic person and i wanted to rehash a challenge i did in 2014. it's hard to believe it's only been four years, it's felt like ages. i'm just glad i'm still into writing.
> 
> anyways, here's my old favorite rare pair. have a lovely day everyone!

America had somewhat of a fascination with France’s hands. They were slender and pale, with nails that were either painted or recently filed down. France had a habit of picking at or even biting his nails when nervous, causing them to be jagged or, as he said, “unpretty.” And France always had to be pretty.

America was confident no one was looking at France’s nails that closely, but then again, he was currently holding France’s hand and running his thumb along the nails. So yeah, some people were looking at France’s nails that closely. One person, at least, but he wasn't concerned with the looks of the nails and more the causes of the destruction.

They were in a cafe in the north of France, a quiet area where there weren’t many to disturb them. It was near empty in the cafe and the two men were in the corner, bundled up next to each other in the booth seating. The light from the window cast onto the table and France had excitedly jabbed his fingers into the sunshine as soon as they sat down, exclaiming about getting new nail polish. America couldn’t just say no to the offer of looking at it, not when his boyfriend’s eyes were wide and happy and he seemed so enthusiastic about something as mundane as blue nail polish.

But looking from France’s eyes to his nails, America couldn’t see it as just blue nail polish anymore. They were a light blue, matching both the sky and the other’s eyes. He tilted France’s hand to catch the light and France let him with a smile. It seemed to sparkle, and he wondered if there was glitter in the polish that was too fine to see. The nails were longer than usual, a sign that France hadn’t had much to worry about recently. America was silently happy about that. He was never the best at having emotional talks- a trait that seemed to frustrate France at times- but he did care deeply. France was his boyfriend and he made it a point to worry about France’s problems as well as his own. Seeing the other calm made his heart happy.

He rested France’s hand back down on the table and linked their fingers together, pushing away his runaway thoughts. France raised their hands and kissed the back of America’s with a sly smirk and America blushed, sticking out his tongue.

“What do you think?” France asked, lowering the hands to the table and still holding the other’s, and America replied immediately.

“They look like your eyes.” There was a pause and America continued in a flustered ramble, “and bro! They look like, the same shade as uh, this custom painted Gameboy I have! Japan gave it to me, you know the one?”

“Yes, I do.” France laughed, rolling his eyes, and said, “Mon cher, sometimes, you drive me mad.”

“What?” America tilted his head, seemingly surprised by the topic change. He paused, grinned, and with more confidence, said “I mean, I know. But why this time, Francey?”

“You’re a super power, one of the world’s largest countries-” France adjusted their hands and ran his thumb along America’s knuckles- “but you fluster like a preteen whenever you say something not completely inane.”

America was silent, staring at France, and he raised an eyebrow, smirk still playing across his lips.

“You’re just pretty and it’s hard to not get flustered,” America responded after a moment of thought, grinning, and France laughed, shaking his head.

“You are a darling sometimes, America. A real darling.”


	2. Day 2: Cuddling Somewhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as long as the last one, but here's the newest drabble!

“Amérique,” France singsonged, walking around the other man’s apartment. 

He loved wandering through his lover’s apartment- it was spacious, more modern than his colonial style home, and made complete with tall windows and tiled floors. It seemed more France’s style than America’s, which was why he liked it so much, really. The open space was free from the stuffiness of most houses, and while the furniture eclectic at best and chaotic at worst, it did feel like another home for France.

“Over here, Francey!” America was sat on one of his non-fruit-shaped couches, thankfully. He was flicking through TV channels, pausing on one with a black and white movie playing. He looked up at France and France sped up before throwing himself over the other. “Hey!”

“I missed you.” France pouted, curling up to wrap himself around his boyfriend, and America snorted. The wild antics were usually from America, but as could be expected, his habits had started rubbing off onto France.

“You saw me yesterday.”

“Too long!”

America laughed and simply rested his head on France’s shoulder. He reached around him to grab the remote, which was knocked away after France’s leap, and started channel surfing again. France huffed, reaching for the remote.

“The channel you had on before had one of my favorite movies playing!”

“It was black and white! Therefore, boooring. No way I’m switching back to that, sorry bro.” America gave France a cheeky grin and France swatted at him. He just laughed, pulling France closer and nuzzling into his hair. “No need for violence, we can just sit here and do nothing instead.”

France sighed. He adjusted himself as he stretching, letting America pull him closer again once he was done, and said, “you make it sound like just laying around can be amusing.”

“I mean, it is! We just stay here, share body warmth, talk a bit if you like.” His boyfriend beamed, enthusiasm at the simple pleasure obvious in his eyes, and France smiled. Even if it wasn’t a particularly interesting thing for France, there was certainly far worse things than cuddling with his boyfriend.

“Alright, alright. But I may fall asleep halfway through. You’ll have to carry me to bed.” He gave a mock yawn and America laughed.

“Yeah right, I’ll just dump you onto the floor. You snore!”

“I do not!” France retorted, and the two fell into playful banter, cuddling closer and closer together while the TV played in the background.


End file.
